


The Humble Start

by dramapunk



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, First Kiss, Language, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-21
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-28 01:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6310045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramapunk/pseuds/dramapunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The origin of Wilson Fisk and James Wesley and  a fix it fic: </p><p>First meetings don't always go the way people plan but even the smallest moments can lead to life changing friendships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Humble Start

Fisk sits next to the bed in the private hospital finding peace in the sounds of the machines, hoping that the man in the bed would soon wake up.The doctors said it could be  any time  now, Wilson was fairly certain they weren’t placating him, they knew it would be foolish to do so. For now his mind was stuck in a swill of thoughts from the past. 

Something stirs in him as he watches the group of boys beat on the smaller boy, just a grade or two under Wilson… he’d seen him around school. The boy typically kept to himself, people though he was odd, mostly because he carried himself with an air that he was better then those around him. He can hear the words coming out of the  mouths of the brutes beating on him, words like, queer, and faggot. There is an odd expression on James’… if that’s his name's face as he takes the beating, a mix of anger and cold amusement. It seems to take some of the steam out of the boys beating on him. “God you’re such a freak, why don’t you fight back?” A tallish blond boy says.

Wilson feels guilty for just watching, feels like he should step in, his father would say the boy is a pussy for just taking it, and doesn’t deserve a hand… the thought roots him in the spot. He watches as the boy licks the blood flowing from his lips and spits it in the blond’s face. “Because you’re not worth my time…” He bites out and the beating picks up for another minute or so until the boys get bored and leave James laying on the concrete next to the playground.

Wilson walks up to him, still feeling awkward, about himself, about watching, about everything. He looks at James for a long moment.

James blinks up at him, “Do you just like watching?” He asks though some of the cheek has faded away as the pain from the beating settles in.

Wilson is  startled  by the  boy's words, “Uh.. no… but why do you just let them kick the shit out of you?”  He asks rubbing the back of his neck then offering a hand to James to help him up. 

“Don’t you know you can get  AIDS from just touching me…” James deadpans taking the other boys hand and is surprised by how quickly he is pulled to his feet.

“That’s not true…. illness doesn’t work that way…” Wilson says but he doesn’t sound so sure. “You didn’t answer the question.”

“They aren’t worth it, and if I act like I like it, they get scared or bored a lot quicker.” James says spitting blood onto the hot cement.

“They should be punished for what they did to you.” Wilson says, voice coming out sterner then he knew he could sound, it surprises him a little.

“I’ll think of something. “ James shrugs holding a hand to his face.

“You need to be looked at…” Wilson says worrying his hands together. 

“There is a first  aid kit at my house,  this happens more often then you’d think.” He snorts, a dribble of blood coming out of his nose. “My mother and father are at work for a few more hours.” He says licking more blood from his lips and spitting again.

Wilson blinks unsure of what this social cue is here, he shuffles on his feet a little slumping  some , not really comfortable being taller then everyone else his age, or bigger for that matter. “You should call them then…” Wilson tries.

James smiles a bloody smile at him and shakes his head, “No, I can clean up, I was asking if you wanted to come hang out.” He  explains easily.

“Me…”

“Yes, you.” James nods.

Something relaxes inside Wilson, he’s never felt relax before around other people close to his age, he walks with James back to his  apartment larger and nicer then his own . T he difference a few blocks can make in hells kitchen amazes him, though there is still a drug dealer on the corner and a man sitting on the front stoop drinking a beer.

“Again Jamie…” The man says taking a long sip from the bottle eyeing the bloody boy.

“I wouldn’t give them what they wanted.” James shrugs. 

“Well that’s good at least…” The guy says watching as they move into the building. 

James shakes his head at the slightly drunk man and moves inside pulling his keys from his pocket and opens up the front door , before leading Wilson to his room and pulling the first  aid kit out of his closet.

Wilson looks around the room, there are books, a small TV, a record player with a tape deck, and the desk has books and homework scattered over it. Wilson sees an open anatomy book with places on the human body circled in red, he studies James a little more. 

“What…?” James asks placing cotton in his nose and going to change in the bathroom in the hall.  “I’ll fight back one day and when I do I’ll be ready.” He says letting out a huffing breath. “Does that bother you?” The other boy asks coming back in, for the first time looking unsure.

“No…” Wilson shakes his head, “It’s brilliant.” he says trying to control his anger at the other boys for kicking the crap out James,  it seems he’s finally found a friend. 

After spending the time doing homework and talking , Wilson leaves to make it home before his mother has a fit about where he’s been, he doesn’t think his father would have any problems as long as he was home by dinner, and didn’t come home with another bloody nose. He didn't really fight back either, but it wasn’t for the same reasons as James,  he was scared of what was inside him.

He sits in his room staring at the wall thinking about the odd boy who spit blood at his attackers then asked Wilson over to do homework, and he is filled with slow simmering anger again at the boys who attacked him for no reason. Maybe one day he would be brave enough to do something about the boys who enjoy tormenting James .  He lays back on his bed and tries to clear the confusing and conflicting thoughts from his mind. 

He’s walking up to the school later in the week and he sees  one of the boys taping a flyer about a missing dog to the front door of the school, looking rather distraught over it.

Wilson finds James and looks at the boy, “What did you do?” He asks, with no accusation in his voice. 

James' lips twitch in  a way  that makes  Wilson's stomach do an odd flip, he’s not sure he likes or not. “He didn’t deserve that dog.” Is all James says before grabbing his books and heading toward class. 

Wilson isn’t sure if he wants to think James killed the dog or found it a new home,  he decides that  either is possible with his new friend.

The months drag on and Wilson finds himself spending more time with James, and James was right, the other boys get tired of beating on the smaller boy. But something seems to vanish from their life each time they draw blood .

Wilson doesn’t question James much, and it’s not long before it’s a sweltering summer and his father is running for city counsel. 

He tells James what kind of man his father is, the beatings he and his mother endure and it upsets James. He points to a diagram they are looking at in the copy of Grey’s Anatomy James had stolen from the library.  “A blade between these ribs would deflate his lungs” James says licking his lips a little and looking at Wilson eyes going slightly dark at the thought.

It startles Wilson.. So much so that he leans in and finds himself kissing James it’s awkward and clumsy but James doesn’t push him away.

“I couldn’t…” Wilson says pulling away.

James just shrugs , “But it’s nice to think about isn’t it?”

Wilson finds himself nodding and leaning in to kiss James again, his father would beat him to death if he ever found out.   

The summer drags on the hottest on record the  DJ says as Wilson sits on the roof of Wesley’s building with the boy, Wilson presses the cold bottle to a fading bruise along his cheek as Wesley reads a magazine taking slow sips from the bottle , “You need to do something about him ,  he’s going to get worse now that he lost the election…” James says scooting closer to Wilson even with the heat.

“What like tell someone?” Wilson laughs darkly shaking his head a little , “Would make more problems for me…” He says finishing his soda.

“You could just let out whatever it is that you hold inside you.” James says licking his lips a little and setting the magazine aside to study Wilson. “You hold back when you don’t have too… you’re a lot stronger then you think Will…” He says looking around before leaning in and pressing his lips to Wilson’s less awkward then the first few times, but still learning what the hell  he's doing. 

Wilson kisses back, part of him wishing they didn’t have to be cautious didn’t have to be secret, that he could just break the jaws of anyone who would think to say anything to them. But he shakes that thought from his mind as he pulls back.

That’s the night he beats his father to death, thinking of his mother and James the whole time. He helps his mother disarticulate the body.   'Disarticulate' - a word he picked up from one of James’ books. His mother tells him the next day, that he’ll be going away for  a while,  he doesn’t want  to, it’s the last thing he wants , his father is gone now, James could come here.  He doesn’t want to say goodbye to James, he can feel that anger rising in him again.

His mother tells him, he’ll leave at the end of the summer. He breathes through his nose the way James had told him  to, to clear his head.

He leaves the house his mother not trying to stop him. He finds James sitting on the front stoop of his building, and he leads the other boy up to the roof.

“You did something…” The smaller boy says adjusting his glasses  taped around the bridge from where they cracked in half during the last beating he took from the neighborhood ‘tough’ guys. 

Wilson’s eyes dart around before landing on James again, and licks his lips nodding he leans in and whispers. “I beat him to death last night…” He hears James breath hitch in  a way  he never has before, and decides he could live just to cause that sound.

James lets out a breath through his nose, “What was it like…? What did you do with the body…?” He asks, tongue running across his lips..

Wilson tells him in detail lips twitching a little at the expressions flickering across James’ face as he tells him about taking the body apart and dumping it in the river, between heated kisses. He loves what his words are doing to James but he knows he has to tell the other boy he’ll be gone at the end of the summer.

“James… my mother… she is sending me away at the end of the summer…” He says after a long moment, his fingers carding through James’ hair where his head is resting in his lap.

James blinks up at Wilson from behind his glasses, “Because she doesn’t like what you did or because she’s protecting you?” He asks forever logical and practical.

“She is protecting me…” Wilson says sounding very sure of the matter.

“I.. I’m leaving too… I was going to tell you today. My parents decided a boarding school would be more my speed, I suppose they are tired of me getting beating beat up.  We’ll make the best of this summer, and when school is over, we’ll find each other again Will.” He says sitting up. 

“I got you something… well I stole it from my father…” Wilson says pulling the old black box out and handing it over to James.

James pulls the lid off the black box and inside is a butterfly knife well cared for and when James flicks it open the blade glints in the summer sun. “Stop letting people beat you up… you say I hold back… but you do too..” He grins a little as James smiles at him as he studies the blade.

“Thank you Wilson…” He says taking a slow breath, “We should make a promise to find each other again…” He murmurs pressing the blade to the tip of his finger and nicking the skin , then offering the blade to Wilson who does the same pressing his fingers to James before taking James bleeding finger and pressing it to his lips.

It’s a decade before he sees James again…

He needed a personal assistant someone he could trust , L ord knows he couldn’t trust Leland as far as he could throw him. He had set up several interviews, but they kept either backing out or vanishing until a name comes across his desk that makes his lips twitch slightly. He schools his expression and looks at Leland, and says have him come in immediately.

James hadn’t changed much, taller yes, but not tall, though he was no longer small looking, not to people who knew what compact muscle looked like, hair still neatly combed, though the tape on his glasses was gone, and he was wearing an immaculate suit.

That half smile still had a  feral edge to it,  as he came in and offered his hand, the same one he cut all those years ago. “Sir…” He says the word rolling off his tongue in away that sends something warm down Wilson’s  spine.  Something  that he hadn’t felt since that summer.

Wilson looks to the man watching them some guard, new hire, Frances he thinks his name is, “Leave us, close the door, don’t let anyone in.” He says taking a seat behind the desk as he slides his hand away from James’. 

The blond nods and moves out of the room closing the door behind him.

“Boarding school seemed to work for you.” Wilson says looking over James’ resume for a moment before tossing it aside and looking the man over as he takes a seat in one of the chairs.

“It was an education in many things…” James smiles, “and where ever you were sent off  to, seemed to do wonders for you… you carry yourself much better now.” He smiles a little.

“I presume you know the job is already yours James…” Wilson says easily.

He nods, “Perhaps we should keep it professional for the time in front of the others though… I like the sound of Wesley these days… “ He laughs softly.

“It does suit you, and I was rather fond out how sir sounds coming out of your mouth… are you going to tell me what happened to other candidates… ? ”

James’ lips twitch again, “I found information on some of them and they thought it best to leave the country… one of them I had to persuade a bit more….” He says pulling an old butterfly knife out of his pocket and spinning it between his fingers.  “Still my favorite, have fancier blades now, but this one is so smooth…”

Fisk is pulled from his memory by a low groan his eyes dart to the man in the  bed blinking open his eyes and looking around , reaching for the tubes in his nose.

“Don’t one of your lungs was severely damaged with the gunshot, I was lucky to find a doctor to treat you…” Wilson says voice rough. “You need the oxygen…” Wesley slumps a little and rubs at his eyes. 

“How long?” He croaks out as Fisk places his glasses back on his face and the room slides into focus as the burly man starts to fuss over him, calling for a doctor.

“A few months, long enough for things to go to hell again, and for me to get out of jail… the doctors assure me no brain damage… if that’s what  you're worried about… “

Wesley feels relief run through him ,  “You know me too well.” He says through dry cracked lips.

“Here the doctors said when you woke up you could have water but that’s it… until they look you over.” He says offering James the straw. “We’ll burn them all James, as soon as you’re well…” Wilson rumbles.

James lips twitch at the thought.


End file.
